Time Always Brings Change
by justanotherfan21
Summary: Set early in the summer after the fifth year. Something happens to Harry and he breaks. Two red head angels try to put him back together, one will keep his heart. This fic only covers the summer before the sixth year.
1. Default Chapter

Disclaimer: I, jaf21, do solemly swear that I am up to no good...No...I mean, that I do not own the characters contained within this fic, and that no one would pay me for what I write...No...That I make no profit from it whatsoever, never.  
  
Hermione's PoV as a close friend.  
  
This story starts with Hermione. It is the first week after school has let out. The trio will be starting their sixth year when school starts up. We join her in her room. Sitting on the cushions of her bay window, with a book in her lap, but staring out of her window...  
  
"I wonder how he's doing?" Hermione thought.  
  
Yet again, she found herself unable to concentrate. Her thoughts ever leading back to her best friend, Harry Potter.  
  
"That damn family he lives with." she scowled inwardly. "They won't care. They'll be glad to see him miserable."  
  
Her thoughts continued to darken. She could imagine the Dursley's house. She had seen them several times now. So her mental pictures were for the most part complete. They had no idea what he had been through over the past five years. Worse to her, they would not care if they had. Images of Harry on the receiving end of hate from a family who would never accept him, never love him for who he was.  
  
From the pieces, of the stories, about the Dursleys she had, she knew they would take every opportunity to put him down. Sure, there was that meeting at Kings Cross station only a week ago, when members of the Order had confronted the Dursley's. The thought of Harry's Uncle Vernon getting put in his place by Mad Eye Moody brought a small sense of satisfaction. But, she truly doubted the Dursley's would hold to it. Horrible, wretched lot they were!  
  
Harry would often tell them what the Dursley's had done to him, but rarely how it affected him. He was always so withdrawn. He always pushed his hurts down. Harry never really had the time she supposed, to deal with those pains or to acknowledge them head on and try to come to peace with them. There was always something looming on the horizon, somebody in need. Something else to occupy his mind. He was never taught anything about, or by, real love. The kind that forgives, the kind that asks for forgiveness.  
  
She sighed.  
  
Then there was the loss of Sirius Black.  
  
She wouldn't even think about that right now.  
  
Anguish was quickly wreaking it's havoc on Hermione's mind. Tears began to form in her eyes. Why does it have to be so unfair? He was her best friend. One of her only friends. Besides Harry and the Weasley's, no one had ever taken the time to get to know Hermione Granger. Even in her earlier school days before Hogwarts, the other children thought she was strange. She had always been fascinated with the pursuit of knowledge. Hungered to know things. Longed to have someone to call a friend who she could share her vast knowledge with. Friends who would not shun her for it. For over four years now she possessed those friends. Yes, there were the endless rows with Ron, who could be so thick, but it was never insulting. Never personal. Rarely had it affected their friendship. Even then, not for long.  
  
"Knock, Knock." came a soft call from Hermione's door. It was her mother's voice.  
  
Hermione wiped the tears that threatened to pour from her eyes, tried to straighten herself up, and pulled her book back up to make it view as though she were reading.  
  
"Come in," she called back. Try as she might to look normal, her voice betrayed her. It trembled slightly and she had to clear the lump in her throat.  
  
The door opened slowly. Her mother was carrying a tray of lunch for her.  
  
"Well, how about some lunch?," came her mothers soft voice. "Good book?"  
  
When Mrs. Granger had come in, she expected to see her daughter reading in her window. That was what she did most of the time. That was not what she saw. Her heart went out to her. She knew her daughter so well, she was such a tender hearted child. Always had been. This was going to be like last summer.  
  
"Uh, I'm not really hungry right now mum." she kept her head down and tried to look interested in her book. "If you could just set it down. Thanks."  
  
Mrs. Granger set down the tray on Hermione's bed and went to the window where she sat. She sat down across from Hermione and took the book from her hands.  
  
"Hermione, what's wrong pumpkin?" she asked. "What's getting you down?"  
  
Hermione kept her head down and looked at her hands. "Nothing." Came her half-hearted reply.  
  
Mrs. Granger reached over and gently lifted Hermione's chin. She looked into her daughter's eyes and smiled.  
  
"Come on, you can talk to me." she said. "You've always talked to me."  
  
Hermione wanted to talk. She needed to talk. But, this was the same thing as last year, and before that. Worried about Harry or worried about Ron or his dad, or Ginny.  
  
"Hermione, you can't keep this in. It will only hurt you." Mrs. Granger soothed her and tried to get her to open up. "You've got to get it out."  
  
Something triggered in Hermione. This was the same thing she wanted to get through to Harry.  
  
"He doesn't." she said and lowered her head back to looking at her hands.  
  
"Is it Ron?" her mother asked. Mrs. Granger had known about Hermione's feeling in the past about Ron Weasley. That boy is incredibly thick, she thought to herself.  
  
Hermione shook her head.  
  
"Harry?" she asked.  
  
Hermione nodded her head. She looked up to her mom.  
  
"It's so unfair. He looses his parents. He's wanted dead by Voldemort. He looses Sirius Black, his godfather. And he's trapped in that house with those damned relatives who don't care at all for him." She was starting to get worked up again.  
  
Mrs. Granger didn't like to hear her daughter swear, but she was pretty upset.  
  
"He never talks to us. He just shuts it all up inside of him and won't let anyone in to help sort it out."  
  
"He's never learned to, pumpkin." She looked soothingly at her daughter. "No one has ever taught him. No one close enough to him has ever made him."  
  
"How can you make someone mum?" she asked looking again to her mother. "How can you get someone to open up when they never do?" It was the heart of her anguish. To see her best friend hurt and be helpless to be there for him.  
  
"You be there. You try, you pry ever so slightly." she told her. "You show him he can trust you with those kinds of things. You have to make yourself vulnerable too."  
  
Hermione knew most of this she had been trying for years now. So had Ron.  
  
"I've tried mum, I really have tried. So has Ron." She was growing a little annoyed. "Then something happens, he shells up and then gets sent right back to the mess he's in now. The Dursley's."  
  
Her mother sat back and folded her arms. "Give up then." she said flatly.  
  
Hermione was shocked to hear what was coming out of her mothers mouth. She had never told Hermione to give up.  
  
"What?" she asked.  
  
"Stop doing this to yourself pumpkin." she kept her position. "He's obviously too troubled and he won't accept help from a friend. He also doesn't have a girlfriend who could make him open up." She paused for measure. "So pull out now, while you can. Quit torturing yourself with his problems."  
  
Hermione's shock was mounting. This was not like her mother. When had she ever given up. She furrowed her brow and looked questioningly at her mother.  
  
"Or," her mother relaxed her posture. "Lay it out there for him."  
  
"Huh?" Hermione was puzzled by her mothers tactic.  
  
"You know, maybe if he knew what his friends went through for him. What you, go through for him, every summer." She was betting on her daughters quick intellect to put the pieces together. "He would see that he did have someone else. That his reclussiveness was hurting others besides himself. Maybe he needs a wake up call Hermione. A rude awakening."  
  
"But, his godfather just died. He's going to grieve." Slow recognition began to form in Hermione's features. "How can I drop that on him now?"  
  
Mrs. Granger could see her daughters mental gears began to work. That was the beauty of her daughters mind. All she ever needed was the pieces, she could always string them together herself.  
  
"Tell him, you can't do this for him anymore. Your not going to stretch yourself out there for him this go around." her mother was leading her. "If he doesn't know by now, he won't. So, give it to him straight. Tell him you still very much want to be his friend, but you're not going to try to reach him any more. You've got to expose yourself and possibly be rejected, but tell him how much this hurts you."  
  
Thoughts were churning in the right direction for Hermione. Her mothers advice was clicking in to together.  
  
Mrs. Granger saw the familiar look of determination began to take over her daughters face. Good. she thought. So she stood and took her leave, closing the door quietly behind her.  
  
Hermione sat there for most of the afternoon. Going over what her mother had said. It fit. If he didn't know by now, he wouldn't unless someone put it out there for him. Too bad it couldn't be Ron. She wasn't looking forward to this. But with quiet determination, she rose up ,moved to her desk and began to write Harry a letter. Her thoughts poured from her soul to the parchment.  
  
Dear Harry,  
  
I really hope this letter finds you in good spirits. I have to share something with you I don't fully expect you to get. 


	2. Thoughts Leave Deeper Wounds

Now to a dreaming Ron...  
  
He was walking down a corridor at Hogwarts. He felt as happy as could be. Everything had lined up in his life. He looked left. Standing next to him was the most amazing young lady he had ever laid eyes on. Her bushy brown hair boucning as they walked. His hand in hers. There was Harry on his other side. They were walking and talking about the adventures they'd had in their other years. They were all great friends, everything still clicked. Nothing had changed when he had asked Hermione out. He couldn't remember asking her out, but he knew it was great.  
  
They came to another hall where Hermione would turn to go to Arithmancy or Runes, he wasn't sure.  
  
He turned to Harry, "Hey, I'm going to walk Hermione to her class, okay? Save me my seat."  
  
Harry got a puzzled look on his face. "Ron, you're supposed to go to class with me this time. Don't you remember?"  
  
Ron began to feel uncomfortable. Something in Harry's voice wasn't right.  
  
"Come on Harry, she's my girl. You know how it is." He pleaded with his friend.  
  
The look on Harry's face changed. He was starting to look angry. "You said this wasn't going to happen Ron. You said nothing was going to change when you starting dating her."  
  
"Ron," came Hermione's voice. She sounded like she was getting irritated. "Come on, I don't want to be late."  
  
Ron turned to her. She had her hands on her hips and was tapping her foot impatiently.  
  
Confusion started to creep in on Ron. What's going on, we were fine a minute ago, everything was great. What happened.  
  
"Ron!" came harry's voice through his thoughts.  
  
"Ron!" was Hermione, she sounded angry.  
  
He felt helpless, there was a fog over his mind. Everything was wrong.  
  
Ron woke with a start. He sat straight up. The fog from the dream world was still swimming around in his mind. He looked around. It had to be the early hours of the morning.  
  
He laid back down on his pillow. Staring up to the ceiling. He had been having alot of these weird dreams. They always involved him and Hermione going out, finally. But it always ended up going south. It always ended with the loss of Harry or Hermione's friendship. He had awoken tonight before it got really bad.  
  
The healer at St. Mungo's said things like this might happen. He had heard the nurse tell his parents that thoughts scarred deeper than physical wounds.  
  
He tried to shake the feelings still lingering over from the dream. He was getting sleepier. A sleep he didn't want. He fought, it was fruitless. Not getting enough sleep lately had taken it's toll. His mum had been working he and Ginny sore everyday the result being he was an easy target for whatever dream came next.  
  
Ron's last thought before he fell back into sleep was his mother. He couldn't tell her, she had enough worries these days. It was his struggle.  
  
And he drifted off...  
  
***  
  
It was another bright and sun shiny day at the Burrow. Mrs. Weasley, could be heard cleaning as usual. It was almost lunch and she was thinking on what to prepare.  
  
Ron came in from outside. His hands were dirty, his shirt was sweat stained and he looked exhausted.  
  
He headed for a chair at the table and plopped down.  
  
"Mum, it's way too hot to be de-gnoming the garden," he whined. "Come on, Mum.We've got the rest of the summer."  
  
"Ron, we're short a few hands this summer, so we all are having to do a little more." she said to him over his whining.  
  
Just then Ginny came in and got herself a chair.  
  
"Mum, it's hot. Can't you give us a break?" she hadn't heard Ron's attempt to skive off work.  
  
"I've told you and your brother both already," she said pointedly, "less help means more work."  
  
So far this summer the twins had been booked at their joke shop in Diagon Alley. They were doing well enough that they had moved out of the Burrow and into a flat in Diagon Alley. A source of endless worry for Molly. With all that was going on in the wizarding world right now, she now had to worry about Bill, Charlie, and the twins. Arthur was working longer hours at the Ministry of Magic due to the amount of information being put together for the war effort against Voldemort.. Percy was still not talking to them. It was wearing her down.  
  
"I thought less people in the Burrow would mean less mess." said Ron, giving up for the fourth day now in a conversation he knew he would lose.  
  
"Mum, I'm going upstairs until lunch is ready." Ginny said as she got up from the table and headed for the stairs. She stopped at the base and turned to her mother. "Have you heard from Dumbledore?" She asked, "Do you know when Harry and Hermione will be coming?"  
  
"Not yet, Ginny. I assure you, you will be the first to know." Her mother said to her.  
  
"Oi, mum?" said Ron. "Any owls come in today?" he asked, but knew better. Had an owl come he would have seen it from the yard.  
  
"No, dear." Molly heard a tinge of let down before Ron finished speaking. "Why don't you write to her and see how she's doing." She smiled at him and turned back to the kitchen.  
  
Ron lowered his head after the news and headed for his room.  
  
"Maybe I will write to her," he thought. "Just see how she's doing, tell her how I feel." He shook his head, "Yeah, right. I wouldn't know how." So far this summer had been lousy, and it had only just begun. He knew that Harry was never at the Burrow before the end of July. Somehow, the trouble of having Fred and George around was seeming less important than the distraction they often provided. His thoughts continued to drift. The sound of Ginny's door closing brought him around. "I'll go talk to Ginny, maybe she can help me sort this out."  
  
He approached her door and listened. No particular sound coming from in there. So he knocked.  
  
"What?" he heard her call lazily.  
  
"Hey, Ginny. Can I come in?" he called.  
  
"Yeah, hold on a second." she said back. Less than a minute later she said, "Ok".  
  
Ron opened her door and saw her at her desk, she was putting the lid back on her ink and putting her quill in a cup.  
  
She turned to face him.  
  
"What's up brother dear?" she asked playfully. "Mum cracking the whip again?"  
  
"No." He answered. The thought of talking to Ginny about his feelings was getting difficult. "Uhh, never mind." He turned to head back out her door.  
  
"Why haven't you talked to her about it Ron?" Ginny asked plainly, like she had asked about the weather.  
  
"What?" he said slowly, turning back around. She couldn't possibly know about the dreams he had been having.  
  
"I said, why haven't you told Hermione how you feel? Why haven't you asked her out?" she said still as calmly as could be. "She'd say yes, you know."  
  
That's what scares me the most, Ron thought to himself. Ron debated in his mind if he really wanted to talk about this. It was easier just carrying the weight of dreams and fears around with him. Sure it made terrible company, but at least he wasn't exposed. He could always deny it.  
  
Ginny continued to stare at him.  
  
Ron could feel his sister's gaze on him. She is your sister Ron. She already knows more than you do. All right he told himself. Let's see where this goes, and he moved over to sit on her bed.  
  
"I know, Ginny." he started. Staring down at his hands. "I actually know she would say yes. But..." he paused, lost in his normal thought of it all.  
  
"But, what?" she asked. Suprised that he knew.  
  
Her calmness about a source of distress for him was almost unnerving. She didn't understand. She didn't know the battle in his heart and mind. How could she know that his biggest fear was losing Hermione or Harry as a friend was what kept him from taking their realtionship further.  
  
"I don't know if it's worth taking the risk. That's what." He said it. It was out there. Out of his reach now that he had spoken it aloud. Memories of his dreams darkening his mood.  
  
There was a long pause. Ginny had expected to counsel her brother on how Hermione really did fancy him, how he had just been to thick to see it. She was looking forward to giving him a hard time. But something was way wrong here. She was at a loss. "That's a tough break Ron." She didn't like seeing him like this and she couldn't think of anything to say. She had noticed a difference in him since the Ministry of Magic. Something about the haunted look in her eyes was too familiar. She hated it.  
  
"Listen Ginny, I've really got to talk to someone about the dreams I've been having." He started to shake a little.  
  
Ginny noticed.  
  
Ron spent the rest of the afternoon in Ginny's room. He told her all about his nightmares. All of his fears about losing Harry or losing Hermione. Tears were a large part of their conversation.  
  
Ginny hated to see her brother go through this. She could feel for where he was at and what he was going through.  
  
Outside of Ginny's room, Molly fought with all her strength to keep from throwing open the door and holding her son. She had come up the stairs almost an hour earlier with laundry. When she arrived at Ginny's room she paused. She could hear Ginny sobbing softly. She couldn't help but listen. All that she heard broke her heart. She could understand his heart ache. She was not prepared for what he said next.  
  
Ginny reached over and pulled her brother to her. She held him for a while. Then he pulled back.  
  
Ron pulled himself together. Cleared his throat and looked at Ginny. He had a painful determination on his face, as though he was being forced to do something that was tearing him apart.  
  
"Ginny, I need you to help me with something." More tears, like silent rivers flowed down both cheeks.  
  
"Anything Ron," she answered. "Anything."  
  
"Help me get over her." his words hung in the air, they clung to time and made it stop. "So it can never happen."  
  
"Ron," Ginny couldn't bear it. "You don't want that."  
  
"No, Ginny." he said, lost and distant. "I don't want that. But it's what I'm going to do. I'm not going to lose them."  
  
"Ron, please," she pleaded with him. "Don't. You could never lose Harry as a friend, I don't think you would ever lose Hermione either," she continued.  
  
"You can help me, or I'll figure it out on my own Ginny." his reply was stern. Stronger than he had intended.  
  
Ginny winced.  
  
"No, Ron." she said apprehensively. "I'll help you, you're my brother. I love you, what wouldn't I do to help you?"  
  
Molly set the laundry down in front of Ginny's door and headed back downstairs. She lost the desire to clean any more for the rest of the week. She gave her children time to deal with their own.  
  
*** 


End file.
